


Tag

by RussianWitch



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick (2004), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bondage, M/M, Messy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predicament Bondage, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being caught isn't such a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd

He isn't really sleeping. Never really sleeps when not holed up somewhere, definitely doesn't sleep strung up in some cell, stretched out in heavy chains, the mercs not taking any chances. The bit digs into the corners of his mouth: familiar, almost comforting, the taste of rubber on his tongue erasing the aftertaste of the liquid protein goo they feed him.

In the permanent darkness of the blindfold, all he can do is sit back, and wait for them to decide what they're going to do with him. Unfamiliar footsteps in the corridor outside of the cell several days after they've stashed him, bring him out of the zone he's fallen into out of boredom. Footsteps accompanied by a smell that's out of place. A smell he's almost forgotten after escaping from the walking corpses.

Even with the air recycling on, he can smell ozone and mentally tells his captors goodbye. They'd been decent enough to him on the whole, decent enough that Riddick had planned on letting them live.

The ones who didn't get in his way that is.

Decent mercs have always been too thin on the ground, after all. He isn't averse to more of them, even if just to keep things interesting.

Footsteps approach, heavy boots stomping on the corridor grates, the door hisses open and _yeah,_ Riddick _definitely knows that scent._ Not that he gives any sign of it, too interested to see what the Necro will do. A barely there gasp, makes it difficult to control his grin. It's followed by a louder snort, and someone coming to stand in front of him. Riddick's body itches with the need to move: defend of attack anything but just _hang there._ Biting down on the bit, he forces the impulse down doesn't even twitch waiting for the situation to play itself out.

The hand on his throat is...unexpected. Cold fingers, rough from handling weapons find the carotid artery, blunt nails scratching along it then rubbing at the side of his neck. He wonders if it's a Necro thing: checking for holes just in case...only this particular Necro should know better. Riddick refuses to turn his head and follow the sound of footsteps as they circle him, sinks his teeth deeper into the bit as they stop behind him after several circuits.

Gloved fingers rub along the back of his neck, tracing down along Riddick's spine until the shirt gets in the way. They disappear, then return without the glove, and he can't help pushing into the touch...but only just a little. The almost silent huff tells him his move has been noticed, and rewarded with a firmer touch, nails scratching down his spine and slipping into the back of his shirt. The cold body steps closer, leans against his back, hands wrapping around his throat to squeeze steadily. He growls against the pressure, wasting air he just might need, adrenaline surging through his veins, senses going into overdrive.

The pressure eases just as he starts running out of breath, already considering his options for getting loose, if ripping the chains out of the walls will tear his muscle or just strain it. A sound much like a purr by his ear, and sharp teeth sinking into the cartilage. Hands sliding down his chest leather and metal encasing the wrists teasingly cool against his skin, a different chill from not quite alive hands. He isn't surprised to feel a blade against his abdomen: vicious little thing, small and probably concealed in the wrist cuff. A woman's weapon, but not less lethal for it, maybe more so, a torturer's weapon.

It rips effortlessly through the knit of the shirt.

Leaves him, _conflicted_.

Until the knife returns, roaming across his skin the very tip pressing it almost hard enough to cut. One wrong breath on either of their parts, and Riddick will be bleeding. He chews on the bit waiting for whatever comes next be it blood or...

The knife jumps, the pain lagging slightly: two cuts on either side just above his nipples deep enough to bleed. His Necro gasps, smothers a growl as Riddick feels himself start to bleed, rivulets tickling annoyingly down his chest, running across his abdomen to soak into the waist of his pants and webbed belt. The cuts aren't that deep, he can already feel them healing, nothing he'd pay much attention too normally. Now, he doesn't have anything else to do, tracking the knife requiring too little of his attention.

The sting, combined with the company makes him _horny_.

Shifting his weight, Riddick wraps his hands around the chains stretching him out, holds himself still as the knife dances across his throat. Another growls, this time right against his skin. A cold, wet tongue scrapes against the back of his neck paying special attention to the sweet spot at the base of his skull worming its way under the lower strap keeping the bit secured.

He growls his acceptance of the touch, lets his muscles relax giving tactile permission for, what exactly? Necromongers are fond of power games, they amused him enough that Riddick had participated in them.

Only never like this.

Never as the one _getting_ played with.

Vaako circles again, dull thuds signifying an interesting change of position. Big body between Riddick's legs almost making him wish they weren't chained to the seat to keep him from kicking. Cold, wet tongue on his skin, licking up the drying blood. For once the blindfold annoyed him, depriving Riddick of the sight of his Necro who always looks beautiful on his knees. The knife roams his ribs, counterpoint to the tongue cleaning his skin. Agile tongue works its way up to his chest snags on a tightened nipple, lips, teeth and tongue joining in the exploration. Riddick is pretty sure that soon enough, every stray molecule of blood has been licked off his skin, and that's when the knife comes up reopening the cuts.

Hungry, sloppy sounds, as his Necro feeds prodding one cut after another with his tongue to keep the blood from clotting. Riddick's dick strains against the fabric of his pants, trapped as well with little hope for release anytime soon. He can feel answering arousal where they are pressed crotch to crotch, can feel his Necro's dick jumping every time he digs his tongue deep into a cut. Not being able to touch, soon becomes frustrating. He jerks at the chains like he hasn't spend the better part of his imprisonment testing them, and is laughed at for his effort. The Necro straightens, leaning in to lick across Riddick's lips, nuzzles against Riddick's cheek before returning to the game of cutting and licking until it feels like the whole front of his body feels raw, not that it does anything to kill his arousal.

The rush of not being able to turn the tables, it's a new. He isn't sure he likes it, in fact, not being able to demand Vaako blow him already has him chewing at the bit, thrusting up against the body leaning into him. By the feel of it, his Necro is out of armor for once, curious for assault. Not that Riddick cares much, he's fucked Vaako in full armor before.

Wasn't made to be Lord Marshall.

No one's leader, definitely not a holy man, doesn't know shit about anything but survival. He felt his back itching like someone was aiming to stick a knife in from the first day. Vaako might be a hot fuck, but nothing justified getting ghosted.

His dick getting released is a surprise: cool air on heated skin, cool breath taunting him with promise while Vaako amuses himself. He's left exposed, and chained, only the smell of Necro telling him Vaako is still there. Doesn't expect his lap to be straddled, Vaako's bare chest against his own, smooth against the cuts. Growling against the bit, he gets slapped for the effort: open handed, not meant to do anything but get his attention. He wonders if his Necro is grinning, wants to bite the expression off the usually neutral face. His dick rubbing between hard ass cheeks, the head catching on the rim of Vaako's hole: he's definitely being taunted.

Riddick is going to remember this, if he's released, _when_ he's released he's going to rip Vaako's balls off if it's the last thing he does. That's what he intends anyway, until without warning he's sheathed in coolness. Vaako sinking down on him, inch by torturous inch pleasuring himself on Riddick's dick. Throwing his head back, he fights not to uselessly try and thrust causing Vaako further amusement. Teeth scrape across his throat, wet panting across his skin as Vaako fights not to make a sound.

Never been used as a fucktoy before by no one.

Vaako's arms around his shoulder, digging into the skin of his back marking him there as well. His Necro grinding down, raising himself up then letting himself drop back in Riddick's lap. When his throat is thoroughly marked, Vaako moves up licking between the straps and panting against Riddick's ear. Their chests rubbing together, sweat and blood making a mess he'd kill to see. The sting of irritated cuts combining nicely with the tight clutch of Vaako's ass. He's missed this: missed the ass, missed Vaako's disrespect more than he cares to admit.

Vaako moans between bites, first sounds he utters since starting their game. Smothers those sounds against the gag, both of them sucking on the rubber, leaving bite marks for posterity. Shifting, Vaako increases his pace: raising up and letting himself drop hard with gurgling growls. Doesn't bother with anything but his own pleasure, not that Riddick isn't getting off.

He's tempted to just relax and not hold back, finish and leave his Necro hanging. Only Vaako's hand is on his dick, awkwardly shoved between them, rubbing where his dick disappears into Vaako's body and gripping him tight. Leaving him with no other option but to wait for Vaako's pleasure.

Definitely going to rip the Necro's balls off once he's loose.

Only the ass around his dick tightens up, Vaako uttering a breathless, almost sub vocal kind of whine, splattering their abdomens with come distracts him from his good intentions again. His dick is released, Vaako rocking in his lap enjoying the aftermath of his release his hole fluttering lazily on Riddick's dick giving him that extra push towards release along with a fresh set of bites.

He shudders through his orgasm silent as the grave.

Doesn't expect the blindfold to get ripped off, Vaako's dark eyes staring at him intently. The gag follows, the taste of rubber replaced by the taste of Vaako's tongue. He isn't sure how long they spend feeding on each other's mouths, Vaako not being required to breathe and Riddick…adapting. When he finally gets the use of his mouth back, Riddick nips at Vaako's lip in retaliation. "Guess ya missed me." He drawls, as Vaako untangles himself rising from Riddick's lap.

"Parts of you, maybe—" His former second in command shrugs.

Now that he can study the Necromonger, Riddick notices…differences: one thick braid instead of a multitude of small ones, cloths that are far too simple for even a Necromonger soldier. Clothing that is ideal for a traveler trying to stay under the radar. "What's ya doing here, Dead Boy?" He asks, as Vaako produces the magnetic keys needed to release him, twirling them on his fingers as he works the kinks out of his spine. "Hunting." Is the short answer, as he's studied like a bug under a microscope.

"How about that? Good game?" Vaako bends down to brace on his shoulders, soldier once more making Riddick's hackles rise.

"You tell me." Fingers digging into the nape of his neck, mouth taken again.

"Always in for good game of tag." He purrs softly, amused to see his Necro sway closer. Barely notices the chains on his arms releasing, but for the ability to grab Vaako tight and drag him back into his lap. He nips at the panting mouth again, bites until he tastes blood and Vaako lets it happen.

He doesn't know what the hell is going on, doesn't much care as long as Vaako thinks it's safe enough to fuck. They'll square off eventually, but first...Vaako did say he'd missed him.     


End file.
